Demons and Angels
by Forelle
Summary: Two companion pieces of the temptation of reconciliation and the desire of what has passed. One Erik, One Charles. Bromance or Romance, however you want to take it.
1. Erik Lensherr: A Year Later

Erik stares out at the dark ocean as a brush of metal glides across his consciousness.

"A submarine," he mutters as a mirthless laugh brushes up against his lips and tumbles out. He listens to the world, mute as the voices of his mutants bicker and converse with one another. Their voices reverberate off of the metal in the house and form a low, dissonant rumble that thrums at the back of his cognizance. A brief, thoughtless swipe towards his head in an attempt to rake through his hair catches him unawares as the unfamiliar, metallic helm comes into contact with his skin. Ever encasing. Always blocking out.

Or was it blocking in now?

Protecting him from the thoughts he knows only too well?

_Charles._

A wave of anger, hurt, betrayal and constant friendship crashes over him for the moment, but the feeling and drain of remorse tears and claws at his psyche as it drags him further and further into the darkest pits of despair and anger he has tried so desperately to bury deep within himself.

He remembers the beach and the bullet. The haze of denial that clouded his own actions and turned his hatred and anger on MacTaggert until Charles had spoken, his words halting and shaken and the sword that cut Erik's denial into millions of microscopic pieces.

_'She didn't do this Erik. You did.' _

God, even months after the incident, chills run up his arms and spine. He squeezes his eyes shut at the images of Charles lying prone on the sand. The awful look in his eyes. The scream that preceded his collapse. Erik feels a whisper move across his mind like an old friend and a thought pass over the predatory consciousness of Erik Lensherr and he grasps at it desperately. His eyes flash open.

_Open your mind. Let him in_, he goads himself. His throat squeezes as the air escapes him and leaves a dull, aching pain behind. His eyes press together as he raises his hands up to clamp around the helmet until he doesn't know where the helmet ends and he begins. He feels the cool pressure of the metal against his fingertips and knows that, with just one movement he could fix everything. He could go back and say he was wrong. He could tell Charles to rearrange his mind so that he forgot all about the past year.

But Charles wouldn't do that. His morals wouldn't allow him.

But Charles would take him back.

Wouldn't he?

Terror-filled bile rises up, uncalled, out of his gut. Terror of the uncertain. Terror of the rejection he feels sure lies in wait for him if he attempts to make contact.

"Erik?" Raven's – no, Mystique's voice calls out to him from the doorway, calling him out of his moment of insecurity.

He opens his eyes and looks out at the dark ocean, the insecure chance to open up to contact erased. He blinks once before removing his fingers from the helmet. He breathes in once. Twice. He turns around to look at the young woman behind him, her blue skin coated in the dusky white of the moonlight.

"Yes?" His voice cracks in his ears. Mystique does not comment. Instead, she tilts her head before replying softly.

"Are you okay?" She looks calm on the front, but he knows her. He knows she worries about him. About all of them. He blinks at her from under the rim of the helmet once before he turns around, back to the window.

"Everything's fine. Don't worry so much." He hears her step forward once before she retreats into the lighted hallway. A sigh passes over his lips as he listens to the squabbling of the mutants all over the compound pick up again. He allows his eyes to glaze over and stare out into the dark night and choppy waters.

Erik settles into the leather wingback chair with an acquiescent sigh as he settles himself into the long haul of another long, sleepless night of facing his demons and angels. Another insecure time to wonder about the ifs and maybes and might have beens. He glances down at the chessboard and its pieces once before his eyes stare once again into the dark void. The dull ache behind his heart the only companion he counts tonight.


	2. Charles Xavier: Too Far Gone

The sun hovers at the peripheral of the world, letting in the orange glow that swipes over the land with dancing tendrils and painted clouds. Star blue eyes gaze out at the calm treetops as fog rolls away at a steady pace. He closes his eyes and, for a moment, he can see it all.

The beach. The missiles. The bright sun. The wicked bite of the bullet as it lodged within him.

Professor Xavier opens his eyes and looks away from his memories. Those years between now and then so long, but still not enough to break the habitual piercing pain of the memory. He knows that those emotions lay just below his calm surface. The anger. The regret. The hurt. The greed. All of his emotions lay prone and weak behind his heavily guarded mind.

He feels a solitary brush of consciousness against his own.

Ororo. The only X-man left behind while the others take a vacation in the islands. They'd asked him if he'd wanted to come with them, but he could not. Would not. Not even after so long since the incident. The breaking point. The children, his children, they've grown up so much it amazes him sometimes.

But they can be so wretchedly blind to everything. They did not learn from mistakes. They did not try to rectify the forming lines even as those lines were being etched right in front of them. Not even when families are being torn apart left and right.

An old, shaking hand moves before his eyes as he turns the appendage this way and that. Examining it. Wondering about it and how things can change so much even as the past sits right behind him.

How had he let it get this far?

Again he closes his eyes as the memories of that time, when they had all been a family, wash over him. Raven looked so happy then, so damned happy that she could be herself around people. Sean and Alex were still so vibrant and vivacious. Hank was still human on the outside, but he almost seemed to be coming to terms with his mutant half. And Erik . . .

Blue eyes gaze out at the rising sun and the thinning fog.

_And Erik . . ._ he thinks. He can still feel that small swell of pride as he remembers his friend's progress. The great talent that swam just beneath the surface and the sharp, tactile mind that ferociously attacked its goals.

Xavier still tastes the bitter regret that was his last memory of Erik Lensherr before Magneto truly existed.

"Professor?" Ororo stands in the doorway of the balcony, just a few paces behind him. He does not look at her, rather he whispers into her head for the briefest of seconds before he catches himself.

"Yes?" His voice wavers slightly, his age creeping up on him as the sun swells in the sky. He feels too tired for this war.

"Are you all right?" She sounds unsure, as if confused as to how someone like The Professor could feel anything but all right.

_I am human!_ He almost wants to yell, both telepathically and verbally. But he is too tired to do anything but comment quietly, "I am perfectly fine, my dear. No need to worry."

He feels her mind waver and teeter on the edge of asking more about how he feels. He does not intentionally seek her mind's emotions; he is normally so much more in control, but right now? Right now, all he wants is to lose himself. If only for an hour or two.

She leaves him be, leaves him to his angels and demons. The past. The could have beens. The maybes. The what ifs.

And for an hour or two, Professor Xavier takes a vacation on an island and the young Charles Xavier walks the grounds with his friend. Runs about with a fire extinguisher in the danger room. Talks with his greatest friend as a friend rather than as an opponent. Feels like a part of the family, instead of the father of it all.

[A/N] Well, thanks for reading these snippets. I really just wanted to write something with these two characters because I really enjoyed their friendship (or romance, I think they can be portrayed either way). Please review to tell me what you thought! I may add to this, what do you guys think? Maybe I'll just start a collection of shorts. What do you think?


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